


Timeo Trilles Et Dona Ferentes

by Syaunei



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Cardassians, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Holodecks/Holosuites, Humor, Interrogation, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syaunei/pseuds/Syaunei
Summary: Despairing over how overwhelmingly boring all of Garak's Cardassian literary picks are, Julian goes complaining to Jadzia.She offers him a gift he really shouldn't have opened.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 188
Kudos: 395





	1. Jadzia's Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmpokNor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpokNor/gifts).



> I wrote this to amuse myself, mostly. 
> 
> I blame my muse for it. 
> 
> So, if you hate this, blame me. 
> 
> If you like it, blame EmpokNor, who encouraged this insanity!

Julian blamed Jadzia. It was all her fault. He'd given Meditations on a Crimson Shadow a chance, he really did; after all, it had been Garak's gift.

But he'd found it predictable and bland and went to complain to Jadzia about how uninspired Cardassian literature was, and how great it would be if he just found something diverting, if for no other reason, then to prove to himself that not all of Cardassian culture was boring as hell.

In hindsight, he should have been suspicious at the devilish glint in her eyes as she gave him a data rod as a belated birthday gift.

He should also have been alarmed when the tag read: Watch me! 

This reminded him too uncomfortably of Alice in Wonderland.

And when he'd asked her what it was and her only reply was a wink and a mischievous "Something diverting!" He really should have known better.

But he'd been curious, and expected, perhaps, some Cardassian documentary, or a book of poetry by some exiled author... Perhaps that Iloja fellow Jadzia seemed to like.

What greeted him was definitely NOT poetry, and neither was it a documentary.

If he were forced to... Classify this... Thing, he would probably call it... Uh... 

Adult entertainment?

There was no way around it. It was porn. Jadzia thought it really funny to give him Cardassian porn to watch.

And not just any kind, no, she probably got a kick out of humiliating shit like this.

It was GAY porn.

If only that was where the controversy ended...

But no, that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg of mortification.

The next was the age of the... Participants? Actors?

The Cardassian... Lead? Main role? Uh, whatever, was a man in his late forties or early fifties, playing the part of a Gul who was tasked with, er... _interrogating_ the prisoners.

His two cronies were snickering and throwing around vastly inappropriate comments which he assumed would be grounds for a court-martial, or more likely, execution on the spot on actual Cardassia. Then again, porn wasn't exactly known for its scintillating historical accuracy.

But by far the worst thing was the prisoner they brought in.

Not only was the man at least twenty years younger than what was sure to be his... (partner?) in this travesty, but he was also startlingly NOT Cardassian, which was shocking for several reasons.

First of all, didn't Cardassians abhor aliens? Supposedly. But then again, plenty of them seemed to like Bajoran women just fine, so there was clearly a lot of hypocrisy going on there.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the younger man was or at least appeared to be, human. Blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin... The "Gul" was practically salivating just looking at his... Prey? Victim? It wasn’t framed as such, but that was what they were aiming for, whoever it was that produced this… thing. It was clearly meant to titillate, rather than spark controversy over racial policy or prisoner treatment.

Julian wanted to look away or yank the data rod out before he saw something which would make him want to gauge his eyes out, but the sight was pulling at him almost like a spectacular shipwreck you couldn't peel your eyes away from.

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him, entirely unhelpfully in his opinion, that he'd never had a chance to see a Cardassian unclothed. After all, the only specimen available was hardly cooperative in that regard. It was kind of ironic that he’d seen the inside of Garak’s skull, but not his bared skin.

Oh God, what would Garak say to this awful thing? He'd probably find a thousand inconsistencies within the first ten seconds and laugh at him for wasting his time on such drivel.

Which it was, judging by the quality (or lack thereof) in the acting department.

The story, if one was generous enough to call it that, was likewise absurd. A human prisoner of war, being interrogated for Terran secrets (not Federation, interestingly enough), brought forth wearing civilian clothing; getting stripped right then and there by the Gul's henchmen.

It was implied the man actually knew next to nothing and that the whole purpose of this elaborate ruse was to satisfy the Gul’s proclivity for exotic younger men.

Halfway through the pointless questioning, the Gul turned half-angry and half-sultry, whispering harshly in the man's ear as he kept touching him inappropriately.

Perplexingly enough, Julian was forced to amend his opinion on the acting, because now it seemed both of the men were enjoying this just a little too much (which was likely the point).

There was something about the deep voice and the possessive hands that quickened Julian's breath.

For some reason, his brain jumped to Garak and now he could almost hear his voice instead, dubbed over the Gul's, whispering filthy and vaguely accusatory things in his shivering young lover's ears.

The other man's moans weren't helping matters any either, as they sounded entirely too willing and lustful.

Julian gripped the edge of his seat to stop himself from doing something... Unfortunate.

Yet things were only heating up. It didn't take long at all for the prisoner to lose all his remaining dignity, because he was soon outright begging for the interrogation to end, promising to do whatever was asked of him in return.

Even Julian, with his limited knowledge of Cardassian culture or interrogation techniques in general, knew that caving in like that was a terrible idea.

Now the Gul essentially had him right where he wanted him.

Did they teach their operatives to be proficient in such... Mind games? It was kind of frightening.

Also... It was horribly effective because his pulse was elevated, his pupils were dilated, and he had to conclude he was achingly and hopelessly... Aroused.

By Cardassian gay porn.

What if it wasn’t even Cardassian? 

It could be human.

Or it could have been commissioned, no, crafted in a holosuite. Made as a joke.

If Jadzia had made this on some whim, Julian swore, he would prank her so terribly she would regret it. He would learn to hack into her replicator so anything she tried to order would materialize as some bizarre alien dildo. Raktajino? Klingon! Hell, make it race-specific. If she ever ordered a Cardassian dish, she’d get a replica of this Gul’s… equipment. 

Curse that Trill!

Because now, he was too invested to stop watching. 

How did it work, mechanics-wise? He knew nothing about Cardassian reproductive system. 

Oh dear.

The human was undulating and grinding against the Gul now. Logically, the sight was ridiculous. Anyone in their right mind would call this over-acted. Absurd! 

Yet…

It was entirely too lascivious and the desire in those movements bled though.

Julian believed it.

And wasn’t that a scary thought?

He actually bought into this contrived, silly little plot, for no other reason than the way the Cardassian’s eyes glimmered, and the way the human bared his throat, welcoming the bites.

Did Cardassians really like having their neck ridges treated that way?

Heat was pulsing through his veins at the sight. 

Was this… dominating behavior typical in their relationships? 

Garak’s words from two weeks ago came to mind,

_ “I wasn't aware that humans saw growing old as a negative experience. On Cardassia, advanced age is seen as a sign of power and dignity.” _

Julian had taken that literally. Presumably, this meant a healthy respect towards their elders, or something.

What if… 

What if there was a different connotation to it, though? Perhaps…

Perhaps it meant Cardassians found older, more experienced partners preferable? More…

Desireable?

Julian flushed at the console, his breathing slightly ragged.

Likewise… 

It wouldn’t be strange that such a dynamic existed; after all, it was hardly unheard of on Earth – just look at the ancient Greeks! 

Oh God… That train of thought was intrusive as hell. 

He could almost see ancient pottery with depictions of such couples… 

Coupling.

Except one of them had ridges drawn on his face.

Shit.

Now he was actually scared of seeing the Cardassian naked. 

Didn’t such… videos usually feature some grotesquely disproportioned individuals? Whatever the size of this Gul’s… _equipment_ , Julian knew not to take it as indicative of anything true to life. 

Perhaps, as the Greeks, they preferred them on the smaller side? 

The thought was utterly humiliating. 

And when the Cardassian mentioned he’d heard of a deviant human practice called fellatio, Julian thought he’d spontaneously combust.

Who wrote these things?!

Still, his traitorous body was reacting to it; his heart rate was up, his breathing shallow and quick.

Oh…

Oh wow.

They had a…

That was interesting. Medically speaking, of course. 

The Gul was guiding his entirely too willing and breathless young lover’s head downwards, whispering suggestively:

“Open your pretty little mouth for me,” To which the blonde moaned and complied, closing his eyes in anticipation, which Julian thought was both suicidal and unrealistic. The Gul murmured deviously, “Yes, just like that, my sweet.”

Julian clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his gasp of surprise.

So that’s how it worked! 

Damn.

Ridges.

Even down there.

Natural lubricant.

Fuck.

Julian groaned into his palm.

His right hand was twitching.

_ I shouldn’t. _

But he wanted to.

The Cardassian tossed his head back and hissed in pleasure.

Is that… what they did? When they were aroused?

The Gul’s face was contorted in bliss.

The wet sounds were obscene.

So was the younger man’s evident enthusiasm at being given the opportunity to lave his older partner with his…err… undivided attention. 

Julian bit his lip in an effort not to make a sound. 

If anyone called him now, he would rather die than answer. 

Being in the lavatory was still an acceptable excuse for rejecting a call, so he comforted himself with that.

And when the Gul twined his fingers through the blonde locks to pull his lover away, Julian swore the resulting whimper from the human was one of loss, rather than pain at being mishandled.

“I am told your kind appreciates the taste.” The Gul chuckled, looking down at his captive who looked almost delirious with desire.

“And I appreciate the feel of such… delicate… skin. So frail and easily broken…”

He pulled the younger man back to his feet and then turned him around, bending his spine forward so he was nearly face-down on the desk. 

“Let’s see what kind of confessions I can get out of you using this method, shall we?”

A needy whimper was followed by an ecstatic cry.

Julian’s skin was on fire.

This was terrible.

Why had he opted to remove his uniform and change into civilian attire earlier in the afternoon? 

He shouldn’t have.

That would have made what he was currently doing rather impossible. 

But his civvies were loose-fitting and comfortable, damn them.

It was absurdly easy to slip his fingers under the waistband and take himself in hand.

What would it feel like, to be breached by a Cardassian, to have those slick ridges filling and stretching you?

Judging by what he saw, it probably felt absolutely divine, if those pleas and moans were to be believed. 

And the crooning, damn it, the constant stream of little inappropriate questions, it was driving him insane. 

The Gul had a positively wicked and triumphant look, which was terrible because Julian had seen similar looks from Garak and now he couldn’t unsee it. 

What would it be like, to be talked like that to, during the act? 

He’d never tried it on any of his lovers before, because it seemed disrespectful and derogatory.

Julian simply couldn’t imagine saying things like these to anyone.

But… oh… He could perfectly imagine Garak saying them.

Was this an actual technique, used by the Order? It sounded ridiculous, but…

Did Garak have practice in this sort of thing?

And why the hell was that thought so bloody arousing?

Now, when he looked at the screen, he could pretend the Gul was Garak, conducting an efficient interrogation.

And the image of Garak fucking someone random was disturbing, so Julian imagined a darker skin tone, darker hair…

That image was entirely too much because in the next moment, his movements turned erratic and he came with a muffled grunt.

Crap.

Bugger.

Fuck.

In that moment, Julian realized he was well and truly-

Screwed.


	2. Suddenly Skittish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian is having difficulty hiding his slight obsession.
> 
> Garak notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the first taste of Garak's POV! 
> 
> Also, I will alternate daily updates between this and "Under the Blind Moon", as I need more time to work on both.
> 
> Think of this as a bit of a palate cleanser!

For an entire hour, Julian seriously considered messing with Jazia's replicators as an act of well deserved comeuppance, but then he tried envisioning what her response might be and the odds were not in his favor. The chance of her laughing, winking and telling him she liked her morning _raktajino_ was nearly 83,6%. 

The chance of her reprogramming his own replicator with something far worse was close to 94,5%.

The odds of that something being self-replicating Cardassian vibrators was 38.9%. 

And those numbers were not something he wanted to fuck with. 

Jadzia was terrifying.

What was equally terrifying was the fact he was now avoiding Garak.

This was the third time this week he had all but escaped when he saw glimpse of the tailor on the Promenade.

He wondered how long he could keep it up before the former spy got suspicious and sniffed him out.

Oh.

No.

That was a terrible train of thought.

He’d rewatched that wretched video again, because he hadn’t managed to get to the ending before… _finishing_ , the last time. 

He cursed himself for it now.

The image of that Gul, smelling his fingers after smearing them with-

Focus, damn it! Not here! 

He swore under his breath and power walked to his quarters, hoping nobody could tell how out of sorts he was.

***

The good Doctor was _terribly_ out of sorts. 

After being dodged the first time (dreadfully clumsily, at that), Garak had grown suspicious enough to follow his lunch companion’s movements more closely. 

Dear Bashir was obviously avoiding him. 

This required further observation. 

So observed he did. 

If he’d learned anything about the lovely human in over two years he’d known him, it was the wide array of honest emotional responses offered freely by the man. 

It would be awfully embarrassing to admit this to anyone, (which he didn’t plan on) but Bashir’s banter, wit and overwhelming kindness were almost as addictive as the implant had been. Cardassians only ever opened up so much to their closest friends (or lovers). 

And since he concluded, with some dismay, that the Doctor was simply not inclined towards the male gender, he had abandoned the pursuit. 

The verbal sparring was difficult to reign in, though. 

It was a good thing there were no Cardassians left on the station who could witness his shameless flirting with the radiant human youth. 

Garak let out a small sigh. 

There was a time he had entertained the thought.

It was still stored in the back of his mind, as one of his more pleasant daydreams. 

Pity nothing would ever come of it. 

He could have tried seducing the boy when he’d first arrived, but he had found him such delightful company that his sentimentality overruled his desire. 

He still believed it was the right choice, the more prudent choice. 

Just imagining how empty and dreary his life would be should Doctor Bashir decide to revoke the pleasure of his company, made his innards clench. 

Hence, the collecting of information.

The human’s physical response right now was quite similar to the flustered, skittish one his initial overtures invited. 

Perhaps he’d come on too strongly.

Of course, the possessive gesture he’d used would have been scandalously brazen by Cardassian standards, but he was fairly certain nobody else knew the significance of having both hands placed firmly on their shoulders. 

It’s not like his kind went out of their way to explain their customs to the rest of the galaxy. He saw the prudence in such a choice and endorsed it wholeheartedly. 

Still, he enjoyed using his culture’s gestures on the dear Doctor, if only to amuse himself with the subtext the other couldn’t be privy to.

He had so few pleasures left and found it impossible to deprive himself of such a small indulgence. 

Garak had learned just about every signal Julian had for _stop_. 

The wobbly little smile with darting hazel eyes.

The tensing in his jaw and shoulders.

The hands in his lap.

So far away from what he needed, from what their level of friendship would grant him back home.

Palm pressing. 

At least five seconds worth of it, warm and solid – each time they met.

An occasional hand on his elbow, or the small of his back.

And had they been more than friends…

This didn’t bear thinking about.

It was entirely too depressing.

So he contented himself with the mystery of the suddenly skittish Bashir. 

He vowed to himself that he would get to the bottom of this little conundrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuun! Julian beware! Garak is hot on your t(r)ail!


	3. Uninvited Guest

Julian felt like a pervert. 

Scratch that.

He _was_ a pervert. 

Had somehow become one in this past month.

How, you may ask?

Well, fools who tampered with the videos they got in an effort to change the likeness of the recorded individuals to better suit their carnal needs could only ever be considered… _bent_.

If anything was made painfully apparent to him in this past month of avoiding Garak, it was that he was hopelessly afflicted with the idea of being… 

Bent.

Over a desk.

Repeatedly.

Preferably, after being interrogated ruthlessly.

The thought made him groan. 

So far, he had managed to compartmentalize the thought away while on duty, but as soon as he checked out, all bets were off. He would race back to his quarters and take a teeth-chatteringly cold shower. Yes, he’d hacked his sonic shower and no, he wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

The worst part was; it didn’t even help.

The stupid vid was in his brain now, replaying nearly constantly. 

He despised his augmented memory sometimes. It felt more like a curse in some instances, and this one definitely qualified. He didn’t WANT to remember it but the fact was, he could recite all the lines from memory; with all the inflections, intonation and perfect recollection of each lustful look and lascivious grunt. The moans of pleasure echoed in his brain, almost like his mind was a deep well amplifying the sound for him. 

Well – hah! 

A gutter, more like.

This was crazy.

And it seemed like the real Garak was aware something was up because he’d dropped by the Infirmary yesterday (a thing he simply didn’t do, not even when faced with the threat of imminent death). Julian had dropped the PADD he’d been holding and gaped at the tailor like a fish.

Gosh the memory was mortifying.

Garak had called him out to lunch and waggled a data rod with some new, likely horridly dull Cardassian classic but all Julian saw was a smug little smirk pulling at the edge of the man’s lips and realized if he didn’t tamp down on his body’s natural response to that, he’d be utterly fucked.

The last thing he needed was an entirely too observant former Obsidian Order agent in possession of such damning information. Who knows what kind of blackmail or torment that could lead to?

Besides, who the hell wanted one of their few friends in exile to suddenly develop a potentially friendship-dissolving fixation? 

An extremely unhealthy fixation which didn’t even have the fucking _courtesy_ of teetering on the edge of obsession anymore, and was instead merrily having an orgy across the line that never should have been crossed.

Reining himself in, he cut off his circulation and tamped down his hormonal levels. 

If this was in any way similar to what Garak was experiencing while on the wire, Julian saw clearly just how addictive that would be.

Damn.

He was addicted to the thought of…

Bugger.

“I thought you might be interested in some… forbidden literature, dear Doctor.”

Julian’s eyes bulged.

Why, damn it; why was that word an instant trigger now?

“Seeing how poorly you responded to more conventional offerings, perhaps you’d be better satisfied by the works Cardassia officially, well, frowns upon, shall we say? I am curious whether that would be more to your taste?”

Julian was doing his level best not to panic when faced with such thick innuendo. 

The trouble was, Garak didn’t seem any different than usual. He was just acting the way he always did. There was no indication of any nefarious plot. Just a friend trying to appease his of late reticent lunch companion.

It made Julian feel like a criminal.

Even as his mind tried to divine what Elim could taste like.

Fuck.

He needed to end this conversation as soon as possible. 

“I thought we might discuss it over lunch in a few days?”

Julian’s heart clenched painfully at that.

Garak was just trying to find an excuse to talk to him, and here he was, being an utter contemptuous bastard and avoiding the man who didn’t really have an option for any other company, due to his current predicament. It was awfully cruel to keep dodging the Cardassian’s attempts to engage him just because he was going through a weird phase. 

So he did the only thing he could.

He relented.

“Fine,” He said with a suffering sigh and took the proffered rod out of Elim’s hands. “Five days from now? Our usual time?”

Garak’s smile was nearly blinding.

And self-satisfied.

Of course it was.

He’d just gotten precisely what he’d come here for. 

Julian didn’t know why he allowed himself to fall for the man’s tricks like that.

“Excellent, my dear Doctor!” The tailor said with undisguised delight. “I shall be looking forward to it!”

Julian plastered on what he hoped passed for an enthusiastic smile and waited for the Cardassian to bugger off out of sight. 

Once he eventually did, his smile fell.

How in the blasted buggering hell would he manage to calm down enough to not make a complete arse of himself when that promised lunch eventually rolled around?


	4. A New Enigma Tale

Oh dear. 

The good Doctor was clearly up to something. 

Garak believed the human expression was \- _Guilty_ _as sin?_

Quite.

In his time, he’d seen plenty of interrogations and enough broken subjects to be able to tell with absolute and unequivocal certainty when one was trying to hide some terrible, soul-crushing transgression. 

It was an intriguing look on the enticing human, he had to admit.

If he’d found the youth engaging and attractive before, this positively delectable level of contriteness and blind panic made him practically irresistible. 

Garak wanted nothing more than to make him squirm under his gaze and draw out the dirty secret plaguing that ravishing mind, one whimper at a time.

He never could resist the pull of a dirty secret. 

Mila had called him nosy.

Enabran had taught him how to hide it better.

Any why should he rein in his curiosity?

He’d been bored out of his mind lately.

What would be the harm in having a bit of fun with this little investigation?

Especially when the stakes were as mild as this, as he doubted Bashir was capable of anything _truly_ scandalous. At most, it was something awfully embarrassing for the poor Doctor, which Garak was perfectly capable of assuaging, if necessary. 

Besides, confession was good for the soul.

Watching Bashir squirm was ridiculously rewarding.

It would appear that using guilt as leverage had been the right call, because the benefits were two-fold. 

One – he’d managed to extort a lunch date.

Two – he’d apparently succeeded in cornering Bashir.

And while cornered individuals may be fierce, they were also prone to making mistakes and revealing more than they ought.

And such a revealing face the young Doctor possessed!

Garak had never seen its like.

One would assume that being cursed with such an open face would tell you more about a person, as it would on a Cardassian, but with this particular human, Garak was so inundated by information and emotion presented that it was surprisingly difficult to parse it all. 

Whatever it was that tormented sweet Bashir, clearly had to do with Garak personally, seeing how he didn’t notice the Doctor’s behavior changing while in company of his colleagues. 

Well, unless you counted the formidable Jadzia Dax, who seemed to be almost leering at his poor little human.

Yes, whatever this little conundrum was, it had to do with the three of them. 

Satisfied by his conclusion, Garak nearly whistled on the way to his quarters. 

The guilt was ascertained, now all that remained was to determine the extent, and the involvement of the parties in question.

It’s been ages since he’s had so much fun.


	5. The Creation of Gul Garak

Julian knew this was a bad idea. 

Beyond the shadow of a doubt.

A terrible, horrible, potentially life-ruining idea.

Scratch that.

A definite life-ruining idea with the potential to blow up in his face most impressively.

Who in their right mind went about learning how to make holosuite programs just so they could…

He was right frustrated with himself, he was. 

If Garak caught wind of this, he was so dead. 

Dead with a capital D.

He suspected he would be found murdered in some untraceable way the next morning.

Or the first other suitable opportunity Garak got, really.

Still, he was running out of options.

Nothing was helping.

Short of medicating himself to deaden his natural response to the man, or indeed, the very idea of him, every other option had proven ineffective.

Meditation had been an abysmal failure. 

All of seventeen different kinds he’d tried - Bajoran Sun Bath included. The blasted heat only reminded him of the inferno in his gut. 

Darts with Miles were insufficiently interesting to keep his attention (thought Miles had been ecstatic to win, several times in a row). In the end, Julian had excused himself and gone to sulk in his quarters.

The only way out of this he could see, was to actually finish the blasted program, take part in it and hopefully – get it out of his system. 

It was going slower than expected. 

He couldn’t risk capturing Garak’s measurements in real life but with his photographic memory and analytic skills, he could compound a near perfect replica. 

Once he’d started manually inputting the Cardassian’s physical data (much to his shame, he also used the medical scans he had taken previously), he was startled to observe how many details he knew about the man. 

He could program each of Elim’s devious or enigmatic little smiles and smirks, capture the teasing glint in his eyes, and even replicate the man’s speech patterns through nothing more than observation. 

It felt kind of strange, constructing a holographic likeness of a man he knew and whose company he actually enjoyed.

It was wrong, Julian knew _that_. Using the man’s image, voice and mannerisms in this way was undoubtedly perverse.

It would be even more so once he actually crossed the threshold of that holosuite and went through with the scenario.

Could he really do this to Garak?

Abuse his trust this way?

Perhaps it would be preferable for the former spy to catch him and put a stop to this insanity.

Yet Julian had come too far to stop now.

The other characters were imported, the player was to be substituted with the prisoner, and Gul Ka’Dar had been replaced by a meticulous copy of Elim Garak and renamed into the entirely awful and unimaginative Gul Garak. He had also added an element of randomness, so that the interactions wouldn’t necessarily be identical to the original.

He saved his program and resolved to book a holosuite for tomorrow.

The thought made Julian squirm on his chair in discomfort. 

Ugh…

If the tailor ever found out…

Garak wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. 

Julian only hoped there would be no interrogation first, because at this point, he far preferred the idea of a clean death. 

Perhaps two years of friendship were worth at least that much.

One could hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a big Garak POV one, and is, in my humble opinion, the best non-smutty chapter in this entire fic. Chapter 7 deserves the Explicit rating, and chapter 8 surprised me. It seems even a funny smut fic cannot escape my need to fix broken things between them... Hope the wait isn't killing you and that the funny bits between smutty bits are keeping you entertained!


	6. A Most Interesting Development

Garak had a well-established (and semi-private) routine. It wouldn’t do to be _too_ predictable, of course, but it paid to appear, at least to any casual observers, a creature of habit well and truly set in its ways.

A dull and lonely old tailor certainly fit the criteria. 

There was much to recommend an image of such sheer unremarkableness. 

Especially with humans, who seemed, on the whole, more than willing to accept such a simple façade for _exactly_ what it appeared to be. The station’s Bajoran residents were a considerably tougher crowd to please, but keeping his head down and remaining contrite and civil seemed to stave off the worst of their… _attentions_.

His race alone, predictably, set their teeth on edge and there was nothing to be done about it.

Any non-Federation denizens, mercifully, had no problem with him. To them, he was just another alien face in a sea of alien faces. 

Mother nature had been quite… _discerning_ when it allocated the resources to his looks and had gifted him with the most average set of features known to Cardassians. A fact he had once resented but since learned to appreciate, as his profession benefitted from it immensely. He had one of those friendly, yet instantly forgettable faces. His physique was likewise suited to his face – his ridges were unremarkable, neither flattering nor unflattering; his waist was squarely on the lamentable side of unfortunate, and his shoulders were nothing some poet might liken to a chiseled Tarlak monument.

His body was strong and compact. Serviceable. It suited his purposes perfectly.

However, Nature, in her infinite wisdom, made a particularly admirable choice when it came to his wits, and opted to create a mind that was quick, adaptable and retained nearly everything he saw or read about. Of course, much of this ability had been honed by his instructors and extensive experience while perfecting his craft, but the initial capacity had been given to him by a capricious and unmovable force. 

He was thankful, all in all.

The only snag to this otherwise perfect schematic he’d been blessed with to go about his business in - was the fact he was almost _painfully_ unattractive to any race that didn’t thrive on conversation or arguments. Which, sadly, meant almost everyone.

Rare were the individuals who could match the razor wit or the scathing passion of a true Cardassian debate. 

He’d been fortunate enough to find Doctor Bashir, who usually met the criteria to alleviate his boredom and lift his loneliness, at least for a little while. 

If only the man could be persuaded into heated discussions more often…

Even now, the only instance where his carefully maintained Cardassian control had slipped filled him with shame and disquiet. 

He never should have allowed himself to become so revoltingly dependent on the wire. 

The rage he’d felt then Bashir had been kind enough to attribute to pain and delirium. 

And Garak hadn’t felt the inclination to correct that assumption, as it was far kinder on his already battered ego. It was far preferable to allow Bashir his erroneous conclusion.

The unfortunate truth was far worse and infinitely bleaker.

He’d been weak.

Frustrated.

On edge.

For far too long, far longer than any Cardassian should be.

His kind needed physical contact. It wasn’t only socially accepted, it was vital to their neurochemistry. Without such contact, deprived of even the slightest casual intimacy provided by a simple palm press, a Cardassian would grow listless and depressed. That’s what their two species seemed to have in common, at least to a certain degree.

This wasn’t the first long stretch in his life where he’d been deprived of touch.

Humans had an expression for this, interestingly enough. _Skin hunger_ , they called it.

Someone could, likewise, be _touch-starved_.

Cardassians , though, called it simply - _deprivation_. 

To them, that word had a single, exclusive meaning.

Unlike with humans, it wasn’t tied to the idea of physical nourishment, lack of air, water, or any other element so crucial to life.

No.

Deprivation was only this.

That was the reason why exile was such a cruel punishment, especially here.

In any other place in the universe, he could seek comfort from another living being, but here, in the looming shadow cast by the Occupation, he was as shunned as a leper from one of Bashir’s novels.

Persona non grata.

Outcast.

Villain.

All perfectly applicable.

That’s why this situation with Bashir was so distressing.

If the good Doctor decided to withdraw his offer of company, Garak didn’t know how he would cope.

He was already depressed most of the time, as their physical interactions were usually lackluster, to say the least. Still, they were infinitely preferable to _nothing_.

Much more preferable than wasting what meager savings he had to hire a discrete prostitute, as this was unappealing on many levels; not only for the major personal and security risk they brought, but also on principle. Only the most desperate on Cardassia sought out such services. 

And his pride, while certainly dented, didn’t allow for it. 

Elim Garak was above getting desperate. 

Had been thus far.

And would very much prefer to keep it that way, thank you very much.

Besides, hiring a professional companion would mean he had failed to procure himself a lover, even a casual one. 

It’s not like he was overly picky either.

If it could read (non-negotiable), write (optional) and hold a decent conversation, he was game.

Or would be, if anyone on this icy floating ring actually deigned to speak with him in any sort of engaging manner.

Racist insults hurled by bigots, while certainly passionate in their own limited way, simply didn’t qualify.

Which brought him, as always, full circle.

Back to the woefully delightful Doctor.

Garak sighed into his glass of kanar. 

He supposed he should consider himself lucky that Dukat was exclusively interested in women.

It’s not like he needed the extra competition vying for the gorgeous human’s attention.

Damn it. 

The drink always made him maudlin.

Bashir was entirely too attractive for his well-being. 

Not only was he lithe and graceful, he had a tiny waist, a shamefully covered neck and a pair of most damningly vivacious and curious hazel eyes. 

Just those eyes alone could drive a man half-mad.

The way they would animate and shine when he went on one of his impassioned tirades was enthralling.

Also, that blasted boyish smile!

So open and sincere, hiding absolutely nothing, almost cruel in its resplendent honesty…

He sighed again.

If Tain could see him now, he’d be laughing his fat jowls off. 

He may as well perform his daily ablutions and retire to bed. 

After all, he was a creature of habit. 

Brushing his teeth, oiling his scales, slicking back his hair.

The only normalcy available to him.

The last bastion of self-respect left.

His appearance, as thoroughly unremarkable as it was, could still be maintained to exacting Cardassian standards of cleanliness and presentability.

Hence the impeccable and strictly tailored suits, made or stiffest fabric available.

An armor over his natural armor.

And his emotional one.

Perhaps going over the station logs was preferable to wallowing in self-pity, as he was wont to do after a few glasses of kanar.

Every day before bed, he would scour the personnel logs for mentions of his name.

Predictably, he only ever showed up in Odo’s meticulous, yet thoroughly uninspired reports and the occasional business scheme of Quark’s. Oh, and sometimes in complaints lodged by Bajoran malcontents. It always paid to keep an eye on those. 

Today, however, there was a ping from an unusual venue.

His eye-ridges rose in surprise at the mention of Doctor Bashir’s name.

Fighting the sudden bout of sentimentality which was trying to suggest some ridiculous notion of synchronicity between them, he wondered why the good Doctor would mention him in a file.

Because that’s exactly what his little algorithm was searching for.

Mentions of his name. Or any derivation of Cardassia. Or instances of… _shudder_ , spoon-head.

This rarely yielded anything interesting, but he couldn’t afford to be careless.

When he saw the file name, he froze.

Elim1.

How?

Not once since he’d landed on this rusting trash-heap did his algorithm pick up a single use of his given name.

None.

Zero.

And now, Bashir’s console contained a file with his name on it. 

Was the Doctor finally audacious enough to go snooping in his private life?

Was it possible that the inquisitive human had somehow managed to obtain his personnel file?

Or gotten into contact with someone from his past?

Perhaps Tain had told him?

This had the potential to be an unmitigated disaster. 

If Bashir saw even a _fraction_ of his mission reports, he would regret extending that forgiveness he had graciously (and naively) granted him on his deathbed. 

For a brief moment, his sentimentality warred with his better sense but he knew which one would win.

Paranoia always won out, in the end.

So he’d activated the backdoor he’d installed on the man’s console over two years ago and surreptitiously copied the file.

Strange.

This format was usually used for holoprograms.

He narrowed his eyes.

For what possible reason would…

Hm.

Then it struck him.

What if the good Doctor was planning some kind of a surprise for him in the holosuite, to repay him for the copy of Meditations on a Crimson Shadow he’d given him not too long ago?

It was possible.

Perhaps he’d misread the guilt, and it was simply the fear of having the surprise ruined.

For a brief moment, he allowed the fondness for the human to envelop him.

It would be just like Bashir to try and play sneaky while attempting a kind gesture.

The man would make a _dreadful_ spy. 

After all, truly exceptional and beautiful individuals made poor operatives; as the goal was not to be remembered, and definitely not to stick out.

And Bashir failed abysmally at both.

He was both frightfully memorable and ridiculously attractive.

Damn it.

What to do?

He wished to allow his only friend his privacy, and he normally would, as he wasn’t in the habit of randomly going through people’s files or personnel logs. He would occasionally break through people’s encryptions, simply to practice, but he never actually _opened_ their files. 

Unless it was absolutely necessary.

And now… sadly…. It was.

Resolving to see what this program was about, he poured himself a fresh glass of kanar. 

With a quick swig, he accessed the files.

Huh.

That was unusual.

Detailed data on his appearance.

Obsessively detailed.

He’d know if someone had captured his likeness for use in a holosuite program, though.

Which meant this information wasn’t obtained through conventional means.

When he’d peered into the code, he was startled to see a chaotic jumble of parameters. Whoever had written this clearly had no idea what they were doing. Oh, the code would run, but there was no finesse to it. It was crude.

Crude yet startlingly accurate.

What he was currently looking at, was a frighteningly spot-on analysis of his outward appearance, speech patterns and general behavior.

Though, what were these extraneous characters?

He stared at the data, perplexed.

Then he accessed the scenario subroutine, and nearly choked on his kanar.

This little program of Bashir’s… Written _by_ Bashir, clearly, in the past two days, no less…

Oh, this was never intended for his eyes.

Otherwise there would be two player characters.

For a moment, he entertained the notion this was Bashir’s idea of Cardassian seduction (erroneous, yet admirable), but then he had to come back to the ground and admit to himself it was simply his wishful thinking, playing tricks on him.

Though…

Oh, dear.

Just look at that filthy dialogue.

Who knew Bashir had such a vivid imagination?

The character name made him laugh uproariously.

Gul Garak! Hah! That was the most hilariously preposterous thing he’d heard in months!

Well, well, well…

So, the dear, innocent Doctor wasn’t so innocent after all.

What a delicious secret he’d stumbled upon…

Yes, this was an unexpected, yet most _interesting_ development. 

If his beautiful human desired a private interrogation, that was entirely within Garak’s purview.

With a few modifications to the dear Doctor’s shoddy programming, he could vastly… _improve_ the quality of this little scenario and afford the young man a night he would not soon forget…

With a gleeful grin, Garak tossed back his kanar and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this! :D
> 
> Do tell me what you think!


	7. Cardassian Hospitality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we earn the "Explicit" rating!
> 
> Have fun~

When Julian told Quark he needed a holosuite for the rest of the evening, the Ferengi had, predictably, been quite curious about the program he was intending to use. In an uncharacteristic bout of inspiration, he resorted to an excited monologue about witnessing the first ever heart transplant in Earth's history, to which the bar owner's eyes promptly glazed over. 

Huh. Who knew such a fascinating subject could bore people to tears.

It was a good thing he’d brought a medkit along, together with a bag of spare clothes identical to what he was currently wearing (replicated, naturally). With the safeties off, who knew what could happen. The random element of the scenario could significantly change things. It didn’t hurt to be prepared, after all… He could hardly come out of the holosuite looking thoroughly fucked. It was improper, and not to mention embarrassing. After all, he could have gotten a real date with a real person. Strictly speaking, he didn’t _need_ to use a simulation to get laid. 

Still… What he actually wanted was not something he could just go up to Garak and propose. The man would likely murder him. 

Or laugh at him.

Both prospects were equally unappetizing.

He could have been satisfied by the scenario as he got it, except that clearly didn’t happen. He _needed_ to feel like this wasn’t just a word for word replay of the video. 

He was currently trying to ignore any pangs caused by his guilty conscience as well as any thoughts as to what this said about him. 

As he raced up the steps, he prayed to any existing and non-existing deities that Jadzia wasn’t nearby. One look at his face and she would know _exactly_ what he was here for tonight. After all, he could barely contain his excitement.

Oh, there was plenty of fear, too.

Shame also.

Except now he was committed.

There was no going back, for tomorrow he had a lunch date he couldn’t cancel, no matter how much he may want to.

With a sigh, he slid the rod in and started the program.

The doors whooshed open, revealing a distinctly Cardassian décor. Almost immediately, the two henchmen appeared by his side and confiscated his things, slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and proceeded to drag him along a bare corridor.

The guard to his left snickered.

“Think Garak will be happy with this one?”

The other Cardassian replied through a leer,

“Oh yes. I mean, I don’t see the appeal of such a ridgeless creature but that tiny waist…” This was punctuated by an appreciative sound.

The first guard laughed.

“If I didn’t value my hide, I’d give it a go myself.”

Despite having programmed this himself, Julian felt like a piece of meat. Unsure why, he attempted to hide his blush.

“Oh, look at that! Garak likes them responsive.” 

“Where are you taking me?” Julian asked, as this was his cue. “I didn’t do anything!”

The first guy, one on his left chuckled at that.

“Oh, that’s not up to us to explain, human. Gul Garak will sort you out.”

The guard on his right guffawed at that.

“Sort! Hah! You think he sorts them by color?”

The soldier to his left grinned predatorily at that.

“He sure likes his boys… Though this human fixation is recent. Perhaps you’re right… What is this, the third one?”

The reply was predictable and Julian let it play out as intended.

“The fourth.”

They both laughed at that but mustered a semi-professional expression once the door to the Gul’s office came into view.

“What… what will your superior do to me?”

Left grinned.

“We’re taking you to be interrogated, what does it look like?”

Right replied unnecessarily:

“Count yourself lucky, human. Gul Garak’s methods may be unconventional, but his subjects usually survive the interrogation.”

Left mustered a devious look.

“Oh yes… Usually being the operative word.”

Julian tired of this part of the scenario. It was good then, that the doors opened.

Huh.

That was the first discrepancy.

Why was the chair turned away from him?

“Gul Garak,” Left said officiously, “We’ve brought the prisoner for interrogation.”

“Good. You may leave now.”

Uh, even the sound of Garak’s faked voice was enough to make him shiver.

But wait… why were the goons leaving obediently?

They were supposed to strip him and laugh while they were at it, all under the Gul’s watchful gaze-

The chair swiveled around rather dramatically, but any thought of laughter died when that piercing gaze met his. The Gul wasn’t smirking.

There was no smile whatsoever.

He was met by cold and uncompromising eyes of a man who disliked having his time wasted. 

Julian gulped unconsciously.

For a long time, the holoprojection said nothing and he was beginning to squirm under the scrutiny.

Julian didn’t know what to say.

He was actually beginning to wonder whether his coding was defective and considered terminating the program when the character finally spoke.

“Do you know why you are here?”

This was spoken matter-of-factly. 

Cold.

Detached.

Impersonal.

Julian blinked dumbly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Uh… For the interrogation? I mean… Your men said so…”

Garak rose from his chair slowly and leveled him with an assessing glare almost dripping with disdain.

“How perceptive of you. Do you believe this feigned naiveté will fool me?”

Julian tracked the man with his eyes, even as he circled around him like a predator.

Shit. This random algorithm he’d added was something else.

He’d wanted a unique and at least somewhat believable experience but he hadn’t expected to be genuinely intimidated by the character he’d created. 

It seemed even a fake Garak was, well… _Garak_.

“What do you mean by that?” Julian asked, curious what response he would get.

A slight smirk appeared on the Gul’s face.

Shit.

It looked so much like the real thing Julian had to fight back a groan.

“Amusing, to believe you have any right to pose questions…”

Julian found himself actually getting angry.

“I have a right to know why I’m being detained!”

The Gul started laughing then, a deep, booming laughter.

Once it passed, Julian stopped breathing as Garak stood behind him and whispered mockingly in his ear:

“This might be a rude awakening for you, dear, but you don’t have any rights under Cardassian law, that is, except the right to stand trial for your crimes against the Union.”

“What crimes?” Julian asked incredulously, slipping into his role with a bit more passion than was strictly necessary. It seemed that having Garak before him, even a false one, elicited a conditioned response to argue his case.

His question was met with a knowing look.

“You know exactly what your crime is. It will do you no good to deny it.”

“No, I’m afraid I really don’t-“

“Doctor,” Garak cut him off with a decisive swipe of his hand, “Why are you so intent on wasting my valuable time?”

Julian froze.

This part wasn’t meant to happen so soon!

He really should have been more careful with the programming-

“Did you honestly believe your falsified identification would pass muster?”

Julian didn’t know what to reply to that and his confusion was evident. Well, he had wanted a unique experience, and he was sure getting it.

When two sure hands landed on his shoulders, he shuddered.

It reminded him too much of the first time he’d met Garak.

“Interesting reaction…” Garak muttered next to his ear, “Do you understand the gravity of your situation now?

Hot breath gusted against his neck and he could swear the Gul was taking in his scent. That shouldn’t have felt so good.

Being sized up by Garak…

Fuck.

“Now that you seem to be in a more cooperative frame of mind, I believe it’s time you and I had a little chat.” Garak said lightly and placed a hand against the small of his back. “Have a seat, Doctor.”

Julian shivered at the point of contact and numbly allowed Garak to seat him in a chair on the business end of his desk.

Julian thought Garak would now go back to his seat but the man remained behind his back, heightening his anxiety.

Two sure hands gripped his shoulders slowly, to which he stiffened.

“Now, now, Doctor… Why so tense?”

With that, two strong hands began to massage his shoulders.

“You should really try to relax, my dear…” He murmured from behind, “I would hate for you to get the wrong impression of Cardassian hospitality…”

Julian almost choked and an incredulous huff escaped him.

Hospitality? In an interrogation?

But those hands seemed to know just what to do, for he could feel knots in his shoulders dissolving under that firm and unyielding touch. At one point, he nearly moaned.

“That’s it… Do you like that?” 

Julian hummed appreciatively before he could think better of it.

“Splendid,” A supremely self-satisfied voice stated, “I believe it’s time to continue, don’t you? We have a lot of work to do.”

Julian snapped out of his reverie and watched Garak return to his seat with the languid grace of a man who had all the time in the world.

He was so much more intimidating and persuasive than the original Gul had been. 

Julian shivered in anticipation.

“Would you like some kanar, perhaps?” Garak offered graciously. 

The question caught Julian off guard.

Garak went on,

“I would simply _hate_ for you to get the wrong impression, Doctor. We are not an uncivilized people.”

Some liquid courage sounded good right about now but this was a holosuite, so… What would be the point?

“Uh, no thank you.”

“Oh?” Garak gave him a pitying look, “What’s the matter? Don’t like the taste?”

Julian didn’t even think to moderate his answer.

“Not particularly, no.”

A pleased smirk blossomed on Garak’s face.

“Now I simply must know, Doctor – where have you managed to procure kanar? Outside the Union it is notoriously difficult to find.”

Julian promptly shut his mouth.

This didn’t bode well.

Garak smirked.

“Silence is also an answer, Doctor.”

Yes, a very incriminating one, Julian was well aware.

“Well, I hope you won’t mind if I avail myself to some? I’ve had a dreadfully long day.” With that, he procured a bottle from his desk and poured himself a small glass. Once that was done, he stashed the bottle away and raised his glass in the mockery of a toast.

“You won’t give me away, will you? Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t be drinking on the job…”

Even as he savored his kanar, his keen eyes never left Julian’s for a second. All he could do was stare helplessly at that hungry expression, so full of dark promise. Garak’s smile was absolutely predatory as he leaned forward in a gesture of feigned friendliness and whispered conspiratorially,

“This will be our little secret.”

Julian had to suppress a shiver and realized he should be grateful for the desk between them, as his arousal was making itself known. It’s not like it could be helped – Garak was ridiculously suggestive, even the one his imagination came up with.

“Intriguing…” The Gul remarked, still sipping his kanar.

Julian tried not to show how hopelessly affected he was by that voice.

“Your artless façade is quite effective, I must admit.”

As with the real man, Julian felt like he was being led around in circles. Garak’s blue eyes were piercing and bright. It made him feel like he was already completely bared to that gaze – as if all of his secrets were visible and pathetically obvious. This vulnerability should have been frightening but like a true deviant, he found it thrilling instead. Wouldn’t it be easier to have his secrets exposed by someone who was terrifyingly proficient at finding them? With such a person, he could let go of all the mind-numbing self-control that went into maintaining his regular human charade. It was exhausting. Most of the time, it felt like a waste. How much more could he do if he didn’t have to pretend to be slower than he actually was? He’d never properly tested the extent of his physical endurance because he knew doing so would invite unwanted attention. Here, however… With the safeties off… With a partner so strong and invulnerable… Shit.

He wanted Garak so badly.

“Your pupils are blown, Doctor… What does that mean for your species?”

Automatically, he replied:

“It’s an involuntary response to low-light conditions, or an indication of a strong emotional reaction to a stressful situation. It can also be-“ Here, his eyes went wide and he shut his mouth. Damn it! How did Garak manage to pry that out of him?

The man observed him with an infuriatingly knowing little smile. If this was the real deal, Julian bet Garak would have known the answer well before posing the question. It was almost too lifelike. 

It was… _enrapturing_. 

This was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Your species is considerably sloppier with the use of body language, I found. Some of your kind don’t even attempt to hide what they are feeling at any given moment…”

“And I suppose that offends your Cardassian sensibilities?” Julian fired back.

“Offends?” The Gul’s eye ridges rose in what appeared to be sincere surprise. His expression was suddenly nearly gleeful. “Quite the opposite, dear Doctor! I find it utterly delightful!”

Julian stared at the man in complete incomprehension.

“What?” He stated, confused by Garak’s reaction.

“It’s a gold mine for an interrogator! Everything I need to know, displayed for me so deliciously, why; I barely need to lift a finger!”

Julian didn’t quite know how to feel about that. On one hand, it was kind of mortifying to be so transparent, but on the other, it was strangely thrilling.

“I quite enjoy the sight of my subjects squirming, Doctor. Your kind makes that especially rewarding.”

Julian’s cheeks flushed. 

Garak pointed to him with his index while still holding onto his glass. 

“Yes… Just like that.”

Unable to bear the force of that suggestive look anymore, Julian averted his gaze to his lap. Damn it. His problem was getting bigger.

“Look at me.”

Julian’s pulse sped up.

“Being insolent is not in your best interest, dear Doctor. I strongly suggest you comply, for your comfort as well as mine.”

Julian wasn’t feeling very comfortable. 

Horny?

Yes.

Comfortable?

Definitely not.

Yet there was a strange sort of appeal in being uncomfortable. Even when the tailor would eviscerate him with a perfectly worded and poignant argument, the discomfort of losing a debate was never overshadowed by the satisfaction of getting his point across; even if said point was dismantled expertly. 

This was a different sort of acknowledgment, one he seemed to relish just as much.

Garak’s tone was low and even, yet strangely threatening.

“I won’t ask again.”

Julian’s eyes snapped open and he looked up. Garak’s expression was inscrutable.

“See? Was that so hard?”

Julian attempted to hide the effect those words had on him. His filthy mind was turning everything into innuendo.

“In the interest of cooperation, I’m afraid I have to ask you to strip.”

Julian stammered, “B-but how? I’m handcuffed!”

Garak’s grin was infuriating.

And too sexy by far.

“Don’t let that stop you. Be creative.”

There was currently a war being waged in his mind. His pride demanded he fight the demeaning command, while another side of his mind (likely named desire) whispered about undeniable benefits of doing exactly what the Gul wanted. Trying to buy himself time, he started with his shoes.

“Oh no, that won’t do at all,” Garak complained, “Stand up.”

Julian gaped at that. If he got up now, his interrogator would see that something else was currently… _up_.

“Would it help if I turned around?” The Cardassian asked with such faked politeness Julian knew he was being toyed with. 

Would it help?

No.

No it wouldn’t.

Because, Julian realized, he actually wanted the man to watch.

Crap.

He was learning a lot about himself through this ill-advised scenario.

Blushing deeply, Julian stood.

“Three paces back, if you please.” A smooth command reached him. Just the thought of the fact Garak wanted to admire the view made him groan.

He watched as the Cardassian calmly sipped his kanar, almost like he was in some shady club, enjoying the night’s entertainment. Well, the lights here were dim for human standards. And he supposed a hologram enjoying itself really shouldn’t impact him in any way. This was his program, after all. He was in control and he could terminate it whenever he pleased.

So he complied. Walked back exactly three paces, no more and no less.

Looked Garak in the eye, almost brazenly, and then toed his shoes off. 

He looked for signs of arousal on the man and failed to find any. The desk could be hiding something, but both of Garak’s hands were on its surface. The ridges peeking from the black military uniform seemed unflushed. He wanted to see the Gul lose his composure. Just like the one in the video eventually did; completely immersed in his pleasure. 

Slowly and deliberately, Julian stripped in front of his interrogator.

Socks were the first to go. They produced no reaction whatsoever, not that he had expected them to.

Next were the trousers; he let them pool around his ankles and stepped out of them. He looked at Garak, expecting at least _some_ kind of reaction, but he was disappointed. The man sat, and he sipped, and he watched. That was all.

It was slightly disheartening.

Regardless, he persevered. There must be something that could ruffle the unyielding Cardassian before him. Then, an idea struck.

Perfect. 

These handcuffs were actually a blessing in disguise.

Slowing to a glacial pace, he pulled his shirt up and off. When he emerged from the fabric, he let it slide down his arms, where it, predictably and inevitably, got stuck on the handcuffs. He let it unfurl and rolled his shoulders.

Garak’s hand froze for a moment. 

That was all Julian needed to know.

“Is this enough?” He asked innocently, to which Garak’s expression darkened.

“Enough, Doctor? No. I am afraid it is not.”

The double meaning was so fucking delicious he just stared at Garak in appreciation for a moment. He had half a mind to speed things along by throwing himself at the man but knew the scenario wouldn’t be as fulfilling then. 

If he knew anything about Garak, it was the man’s love of savoring his food. He’d always been chided for eating too fast and now wondered whether the tailor actually equated his haste and inelegance in the lunch arena to his performance in other areas of life. True, he was not the most patient of individuals but Julian liked to believe he knew a little bit about seduction.

Just because he’d never had cause to pursue a man before, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use every means at his disposal to entice.

With that in mind, he made a show of removing his last article of clothing (unless you counted the shirt hanging off his handcuffed wrists, which he didn’t). Careful to keep his crotch veiled by the bunched-up fabric, he pulled his briefs down to his knees and let gravity do the rest. Stepping out of them as gracefully as he could, he kept his bound hands level with his navel, strategically and to all appearances modestly - hiding his erection.

A tiny gasp escaped him as he noted the flush of Garak’s scales. The keen look in the man’s eyes was unmistakable. Even Julian, who wasn’t always the most perceptive cookie, knew what that look meant.

It was an I-will-pound-you-into-my-desk-six-ways-till-Sunday kind of look.

Julian knew he should try and keep up a frightened or, at the very least, a serious façade, but he was failing abysmally. His eagerness was probably as obvious as an Andorian in a crowd of Romulans would be. 

For the moment, it almost seemed like Garak was rendered speechless with desire. Julian relished what he knew could only be a moment’s triumph, for the Cardassian never let him win, or at least, not for very long. 

“Has the protocol been observed properly?” Julian asked, entirely too audaciously by his standards. It couldn’t be helped. Garak had only fueled his natural affinity for a good debate. A battle of wits had always been his favorite competition. 

The Gul’s eyes narrowed and he put his almost empty glass of kanar on the table.

The words and the tone bordered on murderous.

“Had it been observed properly, you would have been stripped immediately upon arrival, a retinal scan would have been taken, along with a clipping of your hair, one of your molars and a full body holo-scan. So, you tell me, Bashir, has the protocol been observed?”

He remembered the same threat from the video but now it carried more weight. Was it possible? Did Cardassians really treat their prisoners that way?

Eyes flashing dangerously, Garak got up and stalked towards him.

“I have treated you more than kindly, Doctor. So kindly, in fact, that I could lose my rank if it came out. And you have the gall to play with me in my own interrogation room? I think not.”

Julian shivered despite the ambient 33°C. 

“You refuse my hospitality,” Garak spoke sharply, circling him, “Mock my kindness… Spurn any attempt at civility – what am I to think, Doctor? The only possible conclusion I can draw is that your kind is primitive and backward.”

Julian wanted to argue but bit his tongue. This wasn’t real Garak. His friend would be smiling and pushing and using the most flowery language to get his point across. This was almost too blunt to even be considered _Garak_.

“And then, there’s this-“ The Gul nearly hissed as he grabbed his bound wrists with one hand and forced his hands up effortlessly.

“Blown pupils… Flushed skin… Erect…”

Julian swallowed, flustered by the succinct analysis.

Teeth slightly bared, Garak all but growled as he dragged him closer to the desk. 

With a bruising grip, he was held as the Gul dipped a finger in his nearly empty glass of kanar and did a little swirl. All Julian could think about was where he would prefer that finger to be. 

Almost like he’d heard his thoughts, Garak commanded, “Open your mouth.”

Stunned, he gasped and his mouth dropped open a fraction, which the Cardassian capitalized on and next thing he knew, he could taste kanar on the man’s thumb, while the rest of the interrogator’s hand was holding his jaw in place.

He cared nothing for kanar, but this was Garak. Delirious at the sensation, his eyes fluttered closed and he licked the digit in his mouth, moaning at the combined taste of Cardassian skin, alcohol and embodied desire. Imagining how good it would feel to have something else forced in his mouth, he sucked it sensuously.

The grip of Garak’s fingers on his neck felt incredible.

When he felt the hand withdrawing, his eyes opened and the sight that greeted him sent a hot surge of desire blazing across his skin.

Ridges flushed a dark, muted blue.

Unfamiliar heat in Garak’s familiar blue eyes.

Unrestrained lust directed his way.

Julian couldn’t remember ever being looked at with such overwhelming desire.

It felt too good.

Garak let his thumb, still trailing with saliva, brush down Julian’s lower lip, chin and down his neck until it reached his collarbones. Garak dragged his finger along the outline of his clavicles and Julian wanted to beg already. Being caressed by those deft hands… It felt completely different.

More possessive, more… 

Hungry.

Somehow… more pronounced – acute.

Sharp.

A desire he was dying to experience.

“Another lie… Doctor… Deceiving me any further might prove dangerous to your health.”

Julian trembled under the combined power of that touch and the dangerous undertone of those words. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment. He’d never considered the benefit of a little pain in his romantic entanglements before, but he was seriously considering it now. He could feel the bruise forming on his wrist from when he was grabbed and wondered whether it was twisted to want more of them.

Would Garak leave bruises on his neck?

Would he have the imprints of the man’s fingers on his hips once the situation escalated the way he wished it to?

He shuddered and leaned into Garak’s touch.

And when the Gul twined his fingers in his hair and yanked his head back, Julian gasped in pleasure.

“Contrary to what you, the Central Command or the Obsidian Order might think,” Garak whispered harshly into his ear, “I am _very_ good at my job. And on Cardassia, as long as you produce results, nobody looks too closely at the methods.”

This statement contradicted the man’s previous words but Julian didn’t care. The pull on his hair, the firm grip and the hot breath against his ear rendered him almost incoherent with need.

“What do you want from me?” Julian panted, straining in Garak’s grasp to enhance the slight feeling of pain. 

Garak smirked.

“What I’ve always wanted, my dear Doctor,” He said smugly, “A confession.”

“Fuck-“ Julian trembled with desire. 

“Just confess, Doctor. Make things easier for both of us.”

Julian whined at that.

“What if I don’t want easy?” He admitted softly, plaintively.

After a moment’s silence, Garak murmured against his neck, “You would prefer to do things the hard way, then?”

Julian felt he would die if things didn’t move along soon. He was achingly hard and increasingly desperate.

“Yes! Garak, _please_ -“

The man tutted in displeasure.

Crap. 

Even that sound was arousing.

“It’s Gul Garak to you, impertinent wretch.” The man hissed harshly against his jaw. “I used your professional title as a courtesy – the least you could do is return the favor.”

Only Garak could make an insult sound so alluring.

“I’m sorry…” Julian whimpered.

“Disobedient… Disrespectful… What am I to do with you?”

Julian supposed that saying: _Stick your cock in my mouth and fuck me_ wouldn’t come across as properly subdued.

“Why is your mouth open, Doctor? Are you thirsty? Have my men not offered you any water? I should reprimand them later…”

Julian moaned, trying to suppress the need to voice his desires verbally.

Garak’s smile was too wicked and knowing by far.

_ Thirsty for you _ , Julian thought. 

Dying of thirst, actually.

He really couldn’t help the way his gaze drifted to Garak’s crotch. Nor the pathetic longing he was unable to conceal.

Garak laughed. 

So he’d noticed. Damn. He’d programmed him too well, it seemed.

“I would have to be a fool to let you anywhere near _that_ , my dear. After all, spies make for dangerous bedmates.”

Spies?

What?

“Oh, that confused face is wonderfully disarming, as you well know. Yet, a good interrogator knows not to trust when a subject is telling him exactly what he wants to hear.”

Julian couldn’t think straight.

“Pity I cannot immediately verify whether you’re actually human.”

That statement made Julian’s eyes go wide.

There was no way Garak could know-

“They did some impressive work on you, Doctor.”

His blood froze.

Impossible, there had to be some mistake-

“No traces of ridges… All this unblemished skin… Vulnerable and easily bruised…”

Wait, what? 

Ridges?

Relief washed over him.

Garak didn’t know the truth about his augme-

“I wonder who sent you, Doctor. Was it the Obsidian Order or the Central Command?”

“What are you talking about?” Julian asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

A cruel little smile was tugging at the corners of those gray lips.

“Still playing dumb? Well, allow me to lay out some facts for you, in the very unlikely case you really are just a wayward human.”

With that, Garak was once again behind him, except this time, he ran his hands down his spine and his sides, making him shudder.

“What are the odds of such an… alluring specimen landing at my feet with the most unconvincing story, a set of poorly forged documents, and an attitude most confrontational? What was I to conclude?”

“If I was sent by whoever you think, wouldn’t my cover story be better?” Julian argued.

Garak chuckled as his hands brushed against his rear.

“Not if it’s a deliberate façade meant to lull me into a false sense of security… Success in my line of work doesn’t come without making a few enemies along the way…”

“I’m not your enemy…” Julian managed to say, having difficulty thinking at the moment.

Garak gripped him by the shoulders and intimated, “Does that mean you would rather be my friend?”

_ I’d rather be your lover _ , Julian thought, drunk on the sensations.

“What a contradiction you are, sweet Doctor… You claim to prefer things _hard_ , and yet you wish to be my friend… I am kind to my friends, you know. I am not sure that is what you’re looking for.”

“Please,” Julian entreated, half-mad with desire, “I’ll do _anything_ …”

“Anything I want?” Garak asked in an airy tone.

“Anything! I swear!”

The immediate response to his plea was a dangerous chuckle.

“Then…” Garak drew the sentence out, like a proper teasing bastard he was, “Confess…” Julian groaned in surprise when Garak accentuated the suggestion by snaking a hand around his frame and touching the soft skin on the inside of his thighs. His breath hitched.

“Tell me who sent you.”

The touch was cruel in its deliberate gentleness.

He needed harsh and punishing.

He wanted the desire he’d seen in the video.

The unrestrained lust he’d foolishly managed to get addicted to.

“Nobody sent me, Gul Garak…”

“Look at that!” The Cardassian said mockingly, “He can be polite when he wants to! How very gratifying it would be… if only I believed it.”

“I came of my own free will!” Julian insisted, even though he knew his honesty meant absolutely nothing to a hologram. 

Predictably, Garak laughed incredulously at that.

“What for? Amnesty? To defect? What possible reason could you have to betray your kind? There’s no reason whatsoever for you to collaborate. There is _every_ reason, however, to infiltrate. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t ship you off to Cardassia immediately, on charges of espionage? Even an uninformed human should be able to guess what the punishment for that is.”

Death, Julian supposed. 

“If I am to die, don’t I have a right to a last wish?”

Garak chuckled.

“Human customs are worthless to us. We don’t extend such courtesies to our enemies.”

Julian gulped and gambled with his next words.

“What about your friends?”

The smile that blossomed on Garak’s face at that was wickedness incarnate.

“You said you would do anything…” The Gul crooned. “Does that offer still stand?”

Julian nodded, eyes glazed over.

“Well… I’m not one to pass up such an intriguing possibility when it presents itself.”

Julian waited for instructions, panting and eager.

“On your knees.”

He nearly came from the words alone and found his knees almost buckling in his desire to comply.

Which he did, with almost embarrassing expediency.

He closed his eyes on instinct, his mind replaying the video once more.

This part was scripted to happen, even though the dialogue was subject to change. 

“You don’t want to watch? I am disappointed.” Garak said almost petulantly. 

Julian trembled and opened his eyes.

He watched, utterly transfixed, as the Gul unfastened the trousers of his fitting uniform. 

“Still thirsty?” The Cardassian asked and Julian inched closer unconsciously.

“So cooperative… Do I even have to say it, or will you obey regardless?”

The hand caressing the side of his face and carding through his hair was driving him crazy.

At the first sign of the man everting, Julian was ready.

The sound Garak made when his mouth engulfed him was worth every trouble, every moment of tension, and every botched meditation attempt.

Fuck, it really tasted every bit as good as advertized. 

“Enjoying yourself, Doctor?”

The filthy question made him moan around Garak’s member. 

The Gul chuckled as he slid deeper into his mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

Didn’t the man know it was rude to talk with your mouth full? He really shouldn’t be expecting an answer in these circumstances!

Besides, what an absurd question that was.

If there was a way to make his enjoyment any more obvious, he didn’t know it. Short of being telepathic and screaming his pleasure directly into Garak’s skull, he was being as obvious as a man could possibly be. 

“What a talented mouth you have, my dear…” The Gul spoke, though Julian could hear a hitch in his otherwise smooth voice. He _loved_ what such filthy words did to him.

Julian was busy paying special attention to the base of Garak’s prUt, having learned about it from that helpful and supremely _instructional_ video Jadzia was kind enough to gift him with. If she ever found out about this, she would be so fucking smug, he just knew it.

“Whoever debriefed you must have been very thorough indeed, dear Doctor… How else would you know about the _irrlun_?”

That sounded suspiciously like praise to Julian’s ears. The grip on his hair was tightening and Garak’s breathing was getting ragged. He _adored_ it.

“Don’t your knees hurt, my sweet?”

Knees?

He honestly couldn’t give less of a damn about his knees at the moment. 

The fingers were now caressing his hair, which, admittedly, felt wonderful, and Garak’s movements were getting less refined, which Julian was slowly discovering was his new favorite thing.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Garak concluded and Julian felt an insistent tug to his hair which only sharpened as he tried to remain exactly where he was. Still, the hand was strong and so was the sting on his scalp and he relented.

“Aw, there’s no need to look quite so despondent, my dear… We’ve only just started.”

Julian wanted to be pinned against that desk and fucked until he was unable to walk.

“On your feet.”

The command sounded absolute and Julian scrambled to obey. 

“So eager…” Garak remarked casually, “What would you like to do next, Julian?”

The look in those familiar blue eyes was obscene.

He was done waiting.

So done.

Mind made up, he turned his back on the man, bent over and braced against the desk.

Garak tsked behind his back.

“So impatient… I shouldn’t be rewarding this kind of behavior…”

“Oh God…” Julian whined in anticipation.

Garak’s hand trailed down his spine torturously slowly.

“You elevate me to the status of deity… You’re not wrong, you know.” 

The feel of those rough hands gliding over his back was doing a number on his head. 

“To a subject, their interrogator does indeed possess the power over life and death…” With that, Garak bent over him, giving his neck a long lick before murmuring seductively against his skin, “Over capture… or release…”

Enthralled by the words, he felt Garak sink his teeth into his neck. Julian moaned incoherently at that and rolled his hips wantonly.

“Let’s see what kind of confessions I can pry out of you using your method of choice, my sweet…”

The promise in those words was so thick, so insanely good, so-

Slick and nudging-

Julian cried out as Garak finally, _finally_ filled him.

Now he knew why the human in the video seemed to lose his mind as soon as he was penetrated. It was so slippery and the shape of it, widening… 

This angle was-

“Are all humans this tight?”

Julian groaned and muttered a plaintive “Fuck, ah!“

Garak chuckled behind him, his deep voice a delicious drawl.

“Oh, believe me, Doctor – I intend to.” 

The combination of deliberate and carefully measured thrusts, together with rough hands gripping and kneading, it felt too stimulating and he couldn’t help but be vocal, moaning his appreciation and crying out-

“Unh- feels so _good_ …Ah _- Elim_!”

All movement stopped and he let out a sound of clear frustration. Why the hell did Garak stop?!

A hand landed on his spine and he was shoved onto the desk with no warning whatsoever. The other gripped his hip with such force he bet he would have bruises later.

That really had no business being so arousing.

“I never told you my name, Doctor…”

Oh shit. 

That had been a careless mistake.

“I am most curious to discover who told you…”

“Your men mentioned it!” Julian cried out, trying to grind into Elim but the firm grasp Garak had on him didn’t allow it.

A hard thrust made him cry out in pleasure.

“Another lie. Let’s try that again, shall we?”

When Garak pulled out, Julian ached for him to return.

The pressure exerted against his spine was exquisite. 

So was the maddeningly slow way he was being penetrated at the moment. He moaned against the hard surface of the desk, knowing he was close to begging again. 

“Who told you my name, Julian?”

This was a holosuite program, Julian reminded himself and hated the fact it nearly broke his immersion. Two can keep a secret if one of them will fizzle out the moment he says: “Terminate program.”

When Garak began to pull out again, Julian cried out-

“It was Tain, all right! Tain told me when I asked who Elim was… Garak,please, _please_ , for the love of anything you find holy, don’t stop!”

The man’s dark laugh made him shiver.

“Why would I stop now, when I finally have you where I want you?”

Julian writhed, realizing the pressure was gone, anticipating, craving-

An almost inhuman cry left his throat as Garak pushed into him once more.

“You’re not going anywhere, my sweet Doctor…” Elim said slyly. “You see, it’s entirely in my purview to keep you here for a _very_ long time.”

Julian moaned at that, realizing he had absolutely no problem with that suggestion. The holosuite was booked for the entire evening, after all. 

The texture was _insane_. It rubbed him in all the right ways. Eager and desperate, he met every thrust with blatant enthusiasm. If it really came to that, he could always use the transporter to his quarters and claim it was a medical emergency. 

There were perks to being the station’s Chief Medical Officer.

The only downside to this wonderful position was the fact he couldn’t see Garak’s face.

Despite that single flaw, he could hear the change in the man’s breathing pattern and infer the rest. 

How different would it feel if this was the real Garak?

That was a dangerous thought.

If he continued in this vein, he wouldn’t be able to face the man tomorrow.

Would it be so bad, though? Perhaps Garak was lonely enough to say yes to a casual arrangement. Julian could be discreet when necessary.

Because, if the real thing felt even half as good as this, he was sold.

“Elim…” He moaned, luxuriating in the feeling of being so completely taken.

“I don’t believe there has ever been an interrogator in the long and illustrious history of the Union, whose name was uttered half so sweetly by his subject…”

“The things your words do to me-ah,” Julian said incoherently, “It should be against the law for you to speak at all!”

“That would be a shame… I quite enjoy observing the effect they have on you…”

With that said, Julian was pulled upright. He wondered why when all thoughts fled his brain. Garak was gripping his thus far neglected erection and he shuddered. Garak’s bigger and slightly rougher hand felt wonderful around him. It took all of twelve seconds of stimulation for Julian to be rendered completely incoherent.

“If you continue with-ah-with that, I’ll-“

“That’s the plan, my dear.”

The endearment without his title felt different somehow. More intimate.

It felt too good.

With a keen, he came all over Garak’s hand.

“I wonder how you taste, Julian…”

If he hadn’t already come, these words likely would have pushed him over the edge.

It may have been a terrible line out of a porn vid but it certainly sparked his imagination. 

He twisted around so he could see Elim’s face.

The sight of Garak licking his hand clean was disturbingly hot. 

“Slightly bitter and zesty… I like it.”

Julian swallowed thickly.

“You are a rare treat, my young friend,” Garak remarked with a pleased little smile Julian often saw on him, “How are you enjoying Cardassian hospitality so far?”

Julian groaned and wondered how Garak could stay so cool while fucking him senseless.

“Is defection-ah still on the table?” Julian inquired, delirious from the delicious friction and Garak caressing his chest.

“Dereliction of duty! How can I trust a man who can switch allegiances so quickly?” Elim pretended to be aghast.

Julian laughed.

That was such a Garak thing to say.

“Is there-oh fuck-no way to change your-mmn-mind?”

Garak seemed to ponder that for a moment.

“Cardassia would never approve citizenship for you… However… If I kept you somewhere out of sight…”

“Like a dirty secret?” Julian couldn’t help but ask.

Garak’s grin was maddeningly pleased.

“Precisely.”

He never remembered an instance where he got hard so quickly after an orgasm.

Elim now held him by the throat, gently, mindful not to restrict his airflow and Julian bared his neck to him, hoping the man would take the bait.

“How shamelessly you offer yourself… Look at you… How deliciously you entrap my prUt…”

The moment the Cardassian’s teeth sank into his neck, his muscles clenched and he whimpered. The grip on his hip was bruising and forceful.

Naturally, it was absolutely wonderful.

Garak’s movements were losing their grace. Julian encouraged this loss of self-control by arching and moaning in encouragement. A stuttered gasp against his neck warned him Elim was probably close.

“Elim!” Julian begged, “Fill me-oh-please-Elim…”

With a harsh hiss against the nape of his neck, followed by a muffled grunt, he felt something very warm spilling inside him.

Holy shit.

Why had he never considered the benefits of having a male lover?

How limiting his usual preferences seemed in comparison…

They were both panting and more than slightly out of breath. Julian’s heart was beating a mile a minute. 

He’d really done it.

It was morally corrupt, but it felt absolutely wonderful.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself, my dear?”

Julian huffed incredulously.

The question was ridiculously redundant.

With a snort, he giggled. After a bit, it evolved into a chuckle, which in turn ballooned into full-blown laughter. With the most massive post-orgasmic grin he could remember, he turned around and looked at Garak who seemed uncharacteristically dazed. 

“I just had the most fantastic sexual experience of my life and you ask me whether I enjoyed myself?”

Then he remembered this was all a simulation and his face fell. 

With an acute sense of loss, he felt Garak’s _prUt_ reverting back into his _ajan_. If that was even what it was really called. The video could have been Jadzia’s cruel idea of a joke. 

He didn’t want this to end. He may have been tired, achy and spent but he wanted Garak’s company. 

To be held… Would have been nice.

He wanted the real thing.

“Dear Doctor, I really must ask – would you be terribly opposed to a more permanent arrangement?”

Julian turned around and looked at that dear face. 

“I’d love that…” He said honestly, wishing he could touch the man’s face but his hands were still bound in metal and fabric, making such a feat quite impossible. 

To hell with this, he thought. If this was the only safe place he could confess his thoughts, he would.

He was so sick of pretending to be normal.

He tensed his hands and broke the cuffs over his knee, then ripped the shirt apart, shrugging the tatters off in frustration.

Garak was looking at him in clear surprise.

“No, Garak, that’s not normal strength for a human, in case you were wondering. Neither is my intelligence or my hand-to-eye coordination. You wanted a confession, well, here it is. I’m a human augment. My parents had me genetically altered when I was six. It’s forbidden in the Federation, by the way. Ever since Khan and the Eugenics Wars. I shouldn’t be allowed to serve in Starfleet, or practice medicine. I’ve known about it since I was fifteen. I’ve been in hiding, hah, more than half my lifetime, now. I am so sick of hiding, Elim! I want someone to know. Someone who won’t report me, someone who couldn’t give less of a crap about Federation laws, as he finds them laughable and stupid, to begin with. And I want a sexual partner who I don’t have to moderate my strength for, as it gets exhausting. Most of all, I’m sick and tired of pretending! I just want to use my gifts to my full potential, is that such a fucking crime?!”

It was liberating to just say it out loud without fear of judgment. It felt good to be openly angry for once.

Garak made an aborted attempt to laugh and stared at him in silence for a while.

“Well, that explains things…” The Cardassian observed. Then he smiled wryly and said, “Do you feel better after your confession?”

Julian took a moment to breathe.

An omnipresent, dull tension he’d gotten used to over the years had lessened. His shoulders dropped a fraction and relaxed.

He realized…

“Yes… I actually do.”

“And you doubted the validity of Cardassian methods… For shame.” Garak chided teasingly.

Julian observed that face.

He could fall in love with this man.

It wouldn’t take much.

He had an insidious feeling he was already half-way there.

An overwhelming urge to kiss Garak made itself known.

Except he wanted the real thing.

With a lingering sad look, he uttered:

“Computer… terminate program.”

The surroundings winked out of existence.

Garak, however-

Didn’t.

Julian’s eyes went wide.

Garak’s smile was wicked.

“Oh dear, I believe you broke my glass with that abrupt termination. How inconsiderate of you.”

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck?!?

Was this some glitch he’d inadvertently caused while programming?

Casting a brief look behind him, he did indeed notice actual shards of glass resting on the floor, and not too far off was a bag with the spiral top of a kanar bottle peeking out of it.

“Now, would you be amenable to a nice dinner in my quarters? Or have I tired you out too much for one day?”

In complete shock, Julian covered his mouth with both hands and released a drawn-out scream.


	8. Negotiating Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! The end of this silly little fic!
> 
> I hope you'll like the conclusion. :)

If he didn't know the holosuites were extremely well sound-proofed, he was sure his scream would have carried all the way down to the bar and possibly half-way across the Promenade. 

He still had both hands over his mouth and his brain was momentarily fried.

What had he done?!

Not only did he… Well, what was the point in being shy now? 

Yes, he got fucked. Thoroughly.

That was currently not the issue!!

A far bigger problem presented itself – looking at him deviously from across the room, too smug by far.

“I believe the correct human saying in this case would be - Surprise!” Garak said theatrically, accentuating the words with a jazzy flare of his fingers.

Julian wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to throttle Garak, or to get murdered swiftly instead, so he could escape this terrible predicament.

At least the man didn’t seem angry about Julian’s misuse of trust… 

Silver linings, right?

“Now, now… Doctor, you really only have yourself to blame. You should have noticed the discrepancies between your mediocre programming and what was actually happening. I did leave you clues. I also allowed you your dignity, until you made your desires perfectly clear. You certainly didn’t seem to be complaining…”

Julian was slightly distracted from his indignation at the sight of Garak removing his Cardassian uniform.

The sight of the man stripping without an ounce of shame was almost painfully arousing. Julian drank him in avidly – the delightful extent of those neck ridges, the expanse of scales running down his forearms, or flaring out across his chest… The two other indentations similar to the one on his forehead, and when he turned around – the gorgeous mosaic of scales that ran from his neck almost to his bum, gradually smaller and likely softer…

His mouth went dry at the sight.

“I must congratulate you, my dear Doctor – no one has ever gotten my attention in quite as spectacular a fashion… I laud your initiative.”

“That’s not what I was trying to-“

Garak flashed him a genuinely annoyed look.

“I won’t hold that against you, unless you continue that train of thought.”

Julian promptly snapped his mouth shut.

“In any case, I believe you’ve enjoyed this little role-playing experience…”

He wished he could retort something but it was the unvarnished truth. 

Garak was now taking a towel out of his bag and spraying it with something, which he then used to wipe his thighs and nether regions with. 

“I quite hoped this might make you more amenable to a new sort of arrangement but it seems your interest in men only extends to the holographic kind. Pity.”

Julian swore he could detect a note of sincere regret and maybe just a smidge of bitterness in the man’s tone.

“Amenable?? _Amenable?!!_ Are you insane, Garak!?”

“There’s no need to be rude, my dear.” The Cardassian said reproachfully, “You’ve had your fun...”

“I’ve had _my_ fun?!” Julian spat incredulously.

“Have I inadvertently damaged your brain, Julian? Is that why you are repeating my words? On Cardassia, children as old as four tire of such silly games.”

Julian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“I do hope that lunch we’ve set for tomorrow isn’t in questi-“

“No offense, Garak,” Julian spoke over him, “But would you kindly shut the fuck up for a moment? Or is it standard protocol to interrupt someone when they try to speak?”

“Oh, by all means, Doctor. Be my guest!” That affable smile was back on, but Julian noted Elim’s eyes were cold.

“Garak… No… Elim,” Julian started and noticed an uncharacteristically wary look on the man. “Before you say anything else, I need to know something.”

Everything hinged on the answer the former spy would give.

It filled him with trepidation.

“Was this some sort of revenge on me, for making up this stupid program?”

Garak gave him a look of pure disbelief and then burst into laughter.

“Damn it, Garak, that’s not an answer!”

“Oh, yes it is, Doctor, it’s merely not in your power to interpret, clearly. Just like the many literary offerings I brought to your attention.”

“Garak-“ Julian was tempted to pull out his hair in frustration, “Just answer the bloody question so I can answer _your bloody question_!”

Elim visibly deflated.

“Why would I go along with your program out of revenge, Julian? I could have easily sabotaged it in any number of ways.”

“I don’t know, Elim! To amuse yourself? To make fun of me? To get material for blackmail? How should I know??”

Hurt flitted across the blue of the man’s gaze and he said quietly, still naked as the day he was born,

“You could have asked for my company, Julian. I did offer it the first time we met.”

What?

Wait a second…

WHAT?!

“I beg your pardon?” Julian mumbled in confusion, “You offered what exactly?”

“I believe I said something along the lines of – _should you desire some enjoyable company, as I do, you know where to find me._ ”

It was all coming back now.

In a flat tone, Julian said:

“Your exact words were - _if you should require any apparel, or merely wish, as I do, for a bit of enjoyable company now and then, I'm at your disposal, Doctor._ “

“You remember.” Garak stated, quite superfluously, in Julian’s opinion.

“Genetically altered, remember? I don’t tend to forget things.”

“Ah, is that where the problem lies? You didn’t intend on telling me that.”

Julian looked at him crossly.

“A brilliant deduction, Garak. Do you want a side-dish of applause with that?”

“I am sorry, Doctor. I hadn’t expected you actually had any significant confession to make, aside from admitting to your desire for me.”

With that said, Garak pulled a set of his usual restrictive clothing out of his bag and began to dress.

What a mess this was turning out to be.

“I believe this serves as your answer,” Garak sighed, “I’ve quite enjoyed your company these few years. Would it be trite to ask to remain friends? I know your kind can be awfully unpragmatic when it comes to such things…”

“What are you talking about, Garak?” Julian asked, befuddled by the sudden turn the conversation had taken. 

“I understand, my dear. I shan’t bother you further.”

Wait a damn second.

Did Garak just assume-

What an absolute prat.

“Elim, you’re an idiot.” Julian deadpanned.

The Cardassian froze at that for a second, his eyes narrowing in a calculating manner.

Julian decided to spare him the trouble of overtaxing his usually brilliant brain and approached. When they were almost chest to chest, Julian looked him square in the eye, placed a firm hand on his neck ridges and pulled him in for a kiss. The texture of Garak’s wonderfully tailored garments was interesting against his bare skin.

He could taste hints of himself on Garak’s tongue and moaned at the deepening kiss, wondering whether Elim could taste the same thing.

A brilliantly warm hand came to rest against the small of his back and another grasped his left cheek.

Shit. 

Why was he already good to go again?

He pulled back from the kiss, panting and trying to reign himself in. They had to talk about this, no matter how much his body may be protesting it at the moment.

“In the interest of clarifying matters, this was a clear and unequivocal _yes_ to your offer, Elim. I do have conditions though.”

The slight dazed look in Elim’s eyes dissipated and he adopted a serious stance, his hands retreating.

“Name your terms.”

Julian looked at him in bewilderment. This wasn’t a bloody business transaction! Actually, the way Garak phrased it sounded awfully like negotiating a volatile hostage situation. What kind of dreadful thing did the man think Julian wanted?

“I want a proper relationship. That includes dates, lunches, dinners, breakfasts in bed, the occasional sentimental gift and I should hope - lots of sex. Whether you want to go public with it or not, I leave up to you, but in private, I will expect all of the aforementioned things. Would that be acceptable to you?”

Garak gaped at him.

The poor lizard had obviously been expecting something quite terrible if a simple offer of _be my boyfriend_ blew his mind.

“Doctor… I am not opposed to any of the conditions you listed, but in the interest of clarity, as you so eloquently put it, what _do_ you mean by a _proper_ relationship? Our cultural norms may vary slightly, you understand.”

Exasperated, Julian answered,

“I mean an exclusive relationship, Garak. I may look like a free-spirited individual, but I don’t want to share you.”

“Monogamy is… expected. On Cardassia. In a _proper_ relationship.”

“All right then, what does a proper relationship mean to you?” Julian inquired, realizing there would have to be some serious adjustments on both sides.

“It means commitment. Fidelity. Duty to your chosen mate.”

“Uh,” Julian muttered, “The word _mate_ means different things in human cultures; where I’m from, it simply means _friend_. It’s also used for, ah… Denoting an animal couple, mostly. Or a matching pair of objects.”

“On Cardassia, it means partner.”

“What, like a boyfriend?”

Garak scoffed.

“No, Doctor. It’s a step up from… _boyfriend_.”

“So… more serious than that? Something like a fiancé? Or what?”

“Not exactly, Elim elaborated. It is a step below fiancé, perhaps the closest approximation would be a courtship candidate, someone whom you are seriously considering for lifelong commitment.”

Julian gulped, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

“Is there… nothing below that step?”

“Nothing proper.” Elim said stiffly. “I believe your human term, as degenerate as it is, is quite apt – fuck buddies.”

“Fuck buddies.” Julian said flatly.

“Precisely.”

“I wouldn’t mind _that_ ,” Julian admitted, “But I want… more than that.”

He searched for reassurance in Elim’s gaze.

“As do I.” The man said, his eyes taking on a softer quality Julian had rarely had the chance to witness.

“What else is a… mate supposed to do?” Julian asked.

“Act in his partner’s best interest, for the most part.”

“And that would entail…” Julian asked for the specifics.

Garak sighed.

“Not embarrassing the family name, upholding Cardassian virtues and… all the things I’ve mentioned before.”

Julian did his best to seriously consider what he was hearing.

“How does you being in exile reflect on that?” He asked, trying to get a full picture before jumping in head-first as he was wont to do.

“Well, my mother is the only real family I have, and she isn’t here to be scandalized by my life choices.”

“Does that mean you don’t have much of a family name to tarnish?”

“Essentially.” Garak conceded, though Julian could see the man wasn’t pleased by the prospect.

“I will do my best not to embarrass you, Elim.” Julian said gently. “Though, is it even safe for you? To be in a relationship openly? With an alien, no less?”

Elim smiled at him.

It was a nice smile.

“I can take care of myself, Julian. I am more surprised by the fact you wouldn’t mind being seen with me in public.”

Julian blinked several times to process this new absurdity that came out of his Cardassian’s mouth.

“Why would I mind? We have lunch together all the time.”

Elim rolled his eyes.

“At this point, I can’t be sure whether you’re being deliberately obtuse or not, my dear.”

“I really don’t see what you’re getting at, Garak.”

“I am not the sort you usually have dangling on your arm.” Elim said, like it was the most obvious thing in the Universe.

“What? I’ve dated aliens before…”

Garak gave a long-suffering, dramatic sigh at that.

“Men, Julian. You don’t usually pursue men.”

Oh, so that’s what it was!

“So? I’m pursuing one now. It’s not like my private life is anyone’s business.”

“It can’t have escaped your notice,” Garak said with evident exasperation, “That you are quite popular. You draw many an individual’s eye.”

“What use is that, Garak, when they all find me irritating? They don’t seek my company in any meaningful way. I much prefer spending my time with you.”

Some complex emotion was playing across the tailor’s face.

Julian thought he was about to be kissed when Garak leaned in, only to feel the man bringing their foreheads together. 

He intuited it must be significant.

“Elim… what does this gesture mean?”

The tailor’s eyes were closed and he seemed content.

The only response he got was a murmured,

“It means affection, Doctor…”

Julian needed context.

“More significant than a kiss to the cheek?”

“A palm press is a rough equivalent to that one…” Garak muttered, perfectly happy where he was.

“Ok… as significant as a kiss on the lips?”

“Cardassians rarely kiss. We’re adaptable, though…”

“What would be the equivalent, then?”

Garak shrugged.

“Perhaps it has no equivalent, gesture-wise…”

“Well, could you put it into words then?”

The man sighed against him wistfully.

“It means something you humans bandy about like it’s going out of fashion… “

Huh. A word often used, perhaps? One that’s lost all its meaning due to overuse?

He froze for a moment.

There _was_ a word like that.

A certain four letter word.

How could that be, though?

That would mean…

He trembled in Elim’s embrace.

“You should get cleaned, my dear… And dressed.”

How had he never noticed the spy’s caring nature before?

He didn’t want to say it yet, as he felt it might be too soon, but he vowed to remember the gesture and use it often. 

“You’re right… And just so you know, I am positively famished. I wouldn’t mind that dinner in your quarters…”

“I warn you in advance, my dear, I will raise the ambient temperature somewhat.”

“How much?”

“37°C, by your measurements. Is that too much for you?”

Julian was relieved Garak hadn’t said 40+, to be honest.

“That’s only four degrees more than what we have here. I should be fine.”

“How considerate of you.” Garak inclined his head minutely. 

“Don’t be silly, Elim. Some compromise is to be expected – we come from vastly different cultures; not to mention we’re a different species. We’ve made it work so far, haven’t we?”

With that, he sauntered to his bag and rummaged through it for the sonic sanitizer, which he ran over his body as thoroughly as he could, taking stock of his bruises while he was at it.

“I admire how nimble you seem to be.” Elim said, placing his hands possessively on his waist.

“Oh?” Julian inquires mischievously, “Would you like to test it again?”

Garak nipped at his neck gently.

“Extensively, if you don’t mind…”

“Good, now, please let me dress before I get hopelessly aroused again? I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Contrary to what I might have implied, I quite delight in your impatience when it’s in my favor, dear Doctor.”

Julian gave him a stern look.

“Stop seducing me, you incorrigible Cardassian. You may continue at your leisure once we’re back at your quarters.”

At that, Elim raised his hands in a mockery of surrender.

“As you wish, Doctor.”

Julian shook his head to attempt to clear it and took the fresh clothing out of his bag.

“The same outfit… Clever.”

Julian blushed.

“Yeah, well… I had no way of knowing what could happen to my clothes. The safeties were meant to be off, remember?”

Garak grinned.

“That’s exactly what deserves to happen to replicated things.”

Julian huffed in fond exasperation at the tailor’s predictable antics.

“Aren’t you going to remove your bruises?” Garak asked curiously.

Now it was Julian’s turn to smirk.

“Only the ones people can see. For propriety’s sake, you understand. I have a certain professional reputation to uphold.”

“Naturally,” Garak smiled amiably, “What kind of a message does a visibly injured Doctor send?”

“Oh?” Julian wondered, “Is that why you always walk around impeccably dressed?”

“Naturally,” Elim agreed readily, “It’s all part of a well-calculated marketing strategy.”

Julian laughed brightly.

“Glad you see things my way, Elim. I think we’re going to get along splendidly.”

Julian dressed in a fresh pair of socks, underwear and trousers then took the dermal regenerator from his kit and caressed the bruise below his left wrist.

“Does that hurt?” Elim asked quietly and Julian merely smiled in response.

“Not really. I would gladly keep this one, just so you know, but I’m afraid it’s quite visible if my sleeve should slip, and I’d rather not invite any stupid questions.”

Garak inclined his head in an acquiescent manner and helpfully pointed out a bruise Julian had missed, on the back of his neck.

Once he was properly healed, he donned his shirt and posed for Garak, asking whether anything was out of place.

Garak smoothed his hair back a bit and Julian melted a little at that. 

“Let’s get out of here, Elim.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dare keeping you from inhaling your food…” Garak teased.

Julian looked at the tailor fondly and crossed the room to put on his shoes and stuff the ruined clothing in the bag. He would have picked up the shards of glass as well but noticed they were already gone. Elim was so meticulous. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he followed the former spy out, watching as the man surreptitiously removed the rod and stored it in his pocket.

“If anyone asks, Doctor, we met on the way out, as I also had a suite reservation tonight.”

“You think of everything, don’t you Garak?”

In lieu of a response, he got a self-satisfied smile.

They descended the stairs into the ground level of the bar, discussing what they should get for dinner (as that seemed innocuous enough of a topic), when a pleased female voice called out his name.

“Hi Julian! I haven’t seen you in three days! What’s up?”

Shit.

Double shit.

It was Jadzia, sitting at the bar, sipping a brightly colored cocktail with a garish straw and a slice of some alien fruit stuck on the rim. 

Garak answered for him,

“Oh, you know the dear Doctor, he lives for his research.”

Jadzia was currently smirking knowingly.

“That he does…” She acquiesced with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and Julian had the distinct feeling she knew what’s been going on.

That Trill… Witch!

“Julian,” She said merrily, “You never told me what you thought of that video I gave you for your birthday!”

She was doing this on purpose, he knew it. 

Quark, the snoop in the background knew it.

Hell, even that chair over there that might be Odo knew it.

“I found it very enlightening, _thank you_.” He squeezed through his teeth, clearly signaling she should _stop bloody talking_.

Pleased as punch, she raised her glass in his direction and said: “Cheers!”

“I’ll see you later, Jadzia.” Julian dismissed himself and headed for the exit.

He could hear her shouting after them,

“You’re very welcome, boys!”

Julian wondered whether he should enlist Elim’s help for that replicator prank.

After all, there were perks to dating ridiculously skilled former Obsidian Order operatives…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes Julian's little adventure!
> 
> Hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it! :D
> 
> Your thoughts/impressions/critiques are always welcome!


End file.
